


In Regards to Raptidon Biology

by blackjacq (Annabeelee)



Series: Probably Not Great for Business [1]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Humor, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 21:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeelee/pseuds/blackjacq
Summary: He really should’ve known better than to leave the sample of concentrated raptidon musk just hanging out where just anyone (re: Felix) could get their hands on it, but, you know, hindsight and all that. And, as the captain, Johnny has to take responsibility for his mistakes, in the most professional manner possible.





	In Regards to Raptidon Biology

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. If you want to know what Captain Johnny looks like, here’s a link -> https://imgur.com/CfI5P48

Captain Johnny Markov, age now somewhere over one hundred despite only being present for a little over thirty of it, steps down from the final ladder in the empty cargo hold, fresh from his shower and tightening the ties on his loose sleep pants. He had approximately three things on his mind: throw on a shirt, eat some fucking cereal, and then sleep for twelve uninterrupted hours.

It had been a rough week in Roseway. He was thoroughly put off seeing another raptidon or secret lab or self-important scientist for at least a month. There’s only so much acid spitting and needless lecturing and crewmates arguing one could take before you start wishing you were one of the scientists left for dead in the observatory. 

A blinking light on his monitor as he entered the captain's quarters distracted him from his trajectory to his shirt, instead tossing the towel in the corner and beelining for his desk. Three missed messages from Ellie and even more from Parvati checking in about the distress call, one regarding some touchy dick at the bar who got the better end of Ellie’s pistol, and at least two tentatively inquiring when they would arrive back at the Groundbreaker. Unable to fight a smile at Parvati’s gushing over her ‘tutelage’ under Junlei, he types a quick response. 

They’d be back within 24 hours. Groundbreaker was barely a jump away, which was part of the reason he’d been fine with Ellie and Parv sitting this one out. If anything went wrong, they weren’t an impossible amount of space apart, but considering the details the crew went into this particular job on, there was no need for five idiots to be traipsing around a supposedly abandoned colony.

Which had been unfortunate, seeing how Johnny was left with no one between Felix, the vicar, and their near constant bickering. While that had been the original plan: take out the two most diametrically opposed people on the crew out for a three man mission where hopefully some common ground could be reached between life-threatening, blood pumping action. Maybe, after a firefight or three, the two could come to an understanding or at least reach some kind of truce in the quiet moments of having to watch each other’s backs. 

It somewhat used to work on company ‘team building’ retreats back before Johnny was jettisoned into space on the Hope and he had been betting on it being true here as well.

What happened instead was a spectacular failure. 

Constant sniping, backhanded insults, character assassinations at every turn…. even in the few times it looked like peace could be brokered, especially after an arduous ambush by a group of raptidons that ended in the vicar being pinned beneath a rather large beast and Felix golf swinging it into next week before it could rip Max’s arm off, nothing had changed. They had been quiet for a few hours, with Max even thanking Felix for his valiant rescue and Felix begrudgingly accepting it. This only lasted until the secret lab of course and the vicar mentioned something about ‘the Law dictating this tragedy’ and Felix’s rebuttal of ‘the Law dictating how much of a dick you are’ and Johnny nearly locked them both in a supply closet to fight it out.

Or fuck it out. Whatever came first. Not that Johnny had been imagining either scenario, certainly not the latter and certainly not in excruciating detail late at night alone in his quarter’s with a pair of pants thrown over ADA’s cameras.

Already adjusting his evening schedule to include covering the room’s surveillance devices, Johnny grabs his shirt, turning it right side out as the static of the intercom buzzes to life. 

“Captain, Max is requesting your assistance in Felix’s bunk.” ADA’s cool voice announced. Johnny looked to the camera, puzzled and getting to his feet. Those were several words he never expected to hear strung together. 

“What, why?”

“I’m unsure. He said something about needing medical attention.” The shirt lay forgotten on the metal floor as Johnny rushed to the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

He could only imagine the worst. The two had hair-trigger ‘beat ass’ instincts and, while they had never come to blows before, Johnny wouldn’t put it past them to start throwing punches. Even worse, Felix was actually someone who knew when to quit in a fight before either person got fucked over too bad, unlike the vicar who, by his own implied admissions, wasn’t above just straight up murdering someone over a simple dispute. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Johnny snarled, coming to a halt just outside Felix’s bunk, full captain mode; ready for stern talkings to, write-ups, compensation, and getting Ellie on the line to be walked through how to put someone’s guts back into their body. 

Alright, so he still wasn’t ‘dashing space pirate captain extraordinaire’. Mentally, he’s only been out of the Human Resources gig for about 5 months. Give him a break. 

Instead of an unholy mess of viscera and violence, the scene before him is relatively placid: Max is standing to the side primly, with his hands behind his back as always and wearing an inquisitive expression on his face. Across the room is Felix, fidgeting in his chair, sweating slightly, and shifty eyed, but otherwise seemingly fine. Johnny, for all intents and purposes, blinks.

“Ah, captain.” Max greets him pleasantly, eyeing his bare chest with a curious look before turning full bodied to him. He gestures at Felix, who crosses and uncrosses his legs nervously. “It seems as though Mr. Millstone has gotten into the raptidon musk.” 

Johnny blinks again. 

And then a third time. And then a fourth and a fifth as he glances between the smirking vicar and the guilty Felix whose face has only gotten redder, not sure who to focus on until he lands on Max a final time with a disbelieving “Come again?”

“I just sniffed it!” Felix explodes, snapping his mouth closed at his own admission. Max rolls his eyes, lips set into a firmly stern line.

“He drank it.” He says as if Felix were a lying child who’d gotten into the milk without permission again. Felix immediately is on the defensive.

“No-”

“You drank it?” Johnny cuts him off, his generally deep voice hitting all time highs. If he sounds hysterical to anyone, they’d have every right to think so. Honestly, when he left the damn thing in the mess before his shower, he did not even entertain the thought Felix would just fucking down it. “Straight out of the vial?!”

“No!” Felix blurts, wide eyed and clearly uncomfortable, for more reasons than one. “Boss, I just uh- put some on my hand and…” he pauses, as though just now realizing how capital ‘F’ fucked he is. “I...licked it…”

He won’t look Johnny in the eye, one hand clenched in a fist on the table and the other rubbing up and down on the top of his thigh. Every time on the upstroke, he seems to pause just as he reaches his hip, lingering just a little too long as his thumb brushes the growing tent at the front of his pants before forcing his hand to move on. The act of not touching himself seems to be growing more painful by the pass, if his wild expression or how hard he's biting his lip was anything to go by.

Johnny would be lying if that didn’t catch his eye in an arguably unprofessional manner. He wipes a hand over his face, vaguely aware of the absurdity of the situation compounded by the fact that he is still sans a shirt as he crosses the room to crouch in front of Felix.

“Why in the ever loving fuck would you lick up animal musk, man?” He asks as he grabs his crewmate’s chin to assess his symptoms. Felix shrugs, pupils dilated to an outrageous degree and sweat trailing its way down his cheeks from his hairline. His skin in worryingly warm, and though he appears normal, Johnny can’t miss the fact that Felix leans into his hand when he test the temperature of his forehead. 

“Wanted to try it…” Felix mumbles, biting his lip again and closing his eyes when Johnny begins taking his pulse at the neck. Elevated, though not shockingly so. Johnny glances back at the vicar who is watching them in rapt attention.

“What’s going to happen to him?” He’s barely aware that there is a tentative brush of fingers against his knee, but he ignores it. “Should we get Ellie on the line?”

“I can imagine she wouldn’t want any part of this.” Max states, slightly shrugging. “Raptidon musk is a highly effective aphrodisiac, probably more so in an undiluted form. I’m guessing he’ll just have to ‘work’ through its effects, though I’m not sure how strong they’ll be considering it’s usually used as a cologne.”

“So why do I feel like I’m on fire?” Felix whines, the hand on Johnny’s knee getting a little more insistent, “The guy said it’d make you more charming-” 

“Yes, if you wore it, you moron!” Max pinches the bridge of his nose with an aggravated sigh.

“Max-” Johnny warns, and the vicar softens. 

“Apologies, captain. It’s just that the musk is collected off males to scent kills for larger females to ingest. According to the research in the lab, it makes the females more… pliable. ‘Needy’," he trails off wistfully, though is quick to add "His words, not mine.” Max’s eyes are all but sparkling as he rakes his eyes over Felix’s prone form, a hunger in his gaze that punches heat down into Johnny’s gut. “I wonder what that means for Mr. Millstone?”

Johnny swallows, the gravity of his current position dawning on him. On the one hand, he’s a gentleman, for the most part, and Felix’s fucking employer. He should shoo the vicar, who seems to be following the same train of thought as Johnny, out of the room, lock the door, and let Felix hash it out vis a vis his own hand. That would be the right thing to do. The proper, good boss sort of solution to this predicament. 

On the other hand-

Felix is watching him, silence having fallen in the room as Max’s final question marinates without an answer. Johnny hadn’t realized how close Felix had crept, no longer sprawled in his chair, but upright and leaning into the captain’s space. He glances down openly at his hand which has made its halfway up his thigh and Johnny has to fight the urge to follow Felix’s tongue with his own as it wets the man’s dry lips. He realizes he still has a palm on Felix’s neck, softly cupping it despite himself, and, with a start, begins to withdraw it. 

“We should probably leave you t-” the rest of the word is lost to the ether as Felix’s mouth becomes forcibly sealed to his, one strong arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him in as Felix sloppily kisses him. It's not entirely unwanted, least of all when the the other hand slides down his bare chest to paw eagerly at his groin nor when a desperate little moan makes it way out of Felix’s throat when he finds Johnny more than receptive to the situation. 

Felix breaks away but for a moment, wide-eyed at what he’s just done, already spluttering ‘shit, boss, sorry- I just- don’t leave-’ before they’re kissing again, this time with Johnny a much more active participant as his brain finally catches up with the frenzy clinging onto him, trying hash out some form of plan. 

Honestly if he tried to leave, he’d be batting Felix off for however long the stuff he ate took to wear off. But if he just worked him through it now-

Even as Felix grinds into Johnny, pathetically whimpering and giving the captain every excuse to just pin him to the fucking table and take him, Johnny staunchly decides against it. He won’t take advantage; he’s just here to help as un-intrusively as possible. Now, if he can just get Felix under control.... 

Deftly, he grabs Felix’s shaggy locks, yanking his head back and relishing in the whine this elicits from his crewmate. Ducking his head, Johnny runs his tongue down Felix’s bared neck, sucking kisses every few seconds as Felix wraps as much of himself around his captain, rutting into whatever surface of Johnny he can get his still trapped dick to. 

“Fuck, please-” Johnny pulls them to their feet, and with some negotiating of the octopus Felix has become, manages to toss him onto the tiny bunk. Immediately upon becoming horizontal, Felix is boneless, legs enticingly open, hips thrusting helplessly into nothing, mouth a wreck from Johnny and his own worrying teeth; the picture of debauched need.

Or, in another more specific word, needy. 

Johnny becomes painfully aware of Max still in the room as Felix props himself on one elbow to grab at Johnny’s loose pants. He bats at Felix’s hand as he casts a quick glance at the vicar. 

“Say one word of this to the ladies-” he starts, unable to finish the sentence as Felix’s fingers find his drawstring and threaten to just yank Johnny's pants down. Max smirks in his usual manner, moving to innocuously grab the now abandoned chair and set it within less than a foot of the bunk. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it, captain.” He assures, sitting down primly with a pointed knowing look that is both infinitely infuriating and utterly sinful. If any of this is enticing to Max, he doesn’t show it. Johnny doesn’t have time to dwell on what that particular thought is doing for him.

Turning his full attention back to Felix, Johnny shoves him back down to the bunk, propping himself over Felix’s supine form and setting to work on his straining pants. It’s more of a challenge than expected, what with Felix’s hips desperately stuttering for contact and his hot hands grabbing at whatever of his captain he can reach. Johnny presses his hips down with an arm, finally finally getting a hold of his pants to work them off. 

“Work with me, man. Come on.” There’s a sense of urgency as his own self control takes a toll as he undresses his crewmate. He’s not even wearing underwear, Jesus. Was he planning this?

“Boss, please…” Felix whines as Johnny finally frees him of his pants, tossing them aside to land somewhere under the table. 

"Don't- don't call me boss right now, man." He doesn't want to deal with juxtaposing flash of guilt and the shock of his dick twitching eagerly at the sound of it. Instead, he leans back over Felix, drinking in his disheveled flushed appearance, pausing over his rigid leaking cock that rest on his mostly flat stomach.

Johnny leans in, unable to stop himself as he laps at Felix's drooling tip. The man below him keens with a gasp, going tight as a bowstring as someone finally touches him. Felix thrashes against the vicar who has decided to hold his arms with one resolute hand, as his captain suckles softly at the head of his cock.

Fuck, it's been a while. Johnny could sit here all evening, more than happy to rectify the length of time it's been since he's sucked anyone off, with Felix is already begging breathlessly 'fuck me, please-' and Max just watching like the old goddamned pervert he is. Or maybe he could join, fucking Felix’s plush mouth while Johnny has his ass...

He regretfully lets go of Felix's cock, ignoring the easy path of just covering Felix with himself and rutting against him. That could all be left to late night fantasy. Instead he glances around as he spreads the man's legs out even farther, Felix being more than happy to oblige.

"Look,” His voice is shockingly thick to his own ears. “I'm not fucking you but-" Felix’s half-lidded eyes go wide, quite very alert in relation to his demeanor five seconds ago.

"What? Serious-” he trails of into a hiss as Johnny rubbed a thumb harshly down his perineum, biting his lip again and letting his head fall back to the bunk when that same thumb presses lightly to his entrance. Johnny has to count to ten, licking his lips and staring at the ceiling, praying to whatever for strength.

“Got any lube?” He asks finally, and Felix nods enthusiastically, directing the vicar to grab it from under the bunk. Max raises an eyebrow at the, for lack of a better term, well-used tube. If Felix could get any redder, Johnny was certain he would have. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Felix snaps, turning his head away as Max smirks warmly. 

“I’m certain I didn’t say anything, Felix.” Max tosses Johnny the tube with a wink that could be classified as corny if Johnny wasn’t about to stuff his fingers into Felix’s ass.

“Uh, you were thinking about it.” 

Johnny slicks up his fingers generously, letting the two continue to bicker half-heartedly, watching as Max’s hand sneaks down Felix’s chest, pulling his shirt up higher. His thick digits wrap around Felix’s flushed cock just as Johnny pressed his middle finger into the man under them, delighting in how Felix is quite suddenly at a loss for snappy comebacks. 

“Oooooh fuck,” he sighs as they begin to work him, meager thrusts aborted as if he can’t decide to push into the now two fingers massaging his prostrate with gusto or the hand languidly stroking him. Max releases his arms, choosing instead to run a hand through his hair with an air of affection that Felix all but purrs at, his wet mouth falling open when the vicar tugs.

Johnny watched as his fingers disappeared into the inviting tight heat of Felix, swallowing the knot in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to remove his fingers and sink into his crewmate, fuck him slowly until he couldn’t say another syllable. Have Felix wrapped around him, riding him, on his hands and knees, any way he could think of-

There is guilt there even considering it. Felix wasn’t right at the moment, and he’d like to be able to look at his crewmate without feeling like he assaulted him. He opted instead to palm his own cock through his pants, concentrating on fingering Felix through his musk-induced need. He’d just fucking take care of it later.

It didn’t take much longer; Johnny’s laser focus on the man’s prostate both inside and out accompanied by the vicar’s rough grip pulled the orgasm from Felix. His near constant stream of pleading and quiet moans morphed into a litany of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ as he came all over Max’s hand. Johnny and Max worked him through it, milking him three ways till Sunday until his dick had nothing else to give and Felix started trying to buck them off. 

“You okay?” Johnny asks, cock near bursting as he withdraws his hand. Max stepped away as well, grabbing an old crumpled shirt off the floor and wiping his come covered hand off with a less of a grimace than Johnny would’ve expected. 

“Better.” Felix mumbles, already looking half asleep. Max tosses the shirt to Johnny, who catches it and starts to clean Felix as best he can. He’s certain he hears something about ‘helping you out boss’ but by the time Johnny registers it, Felix is already out like a light. 

* * *

Johnny closes the door to Felix’s bunk, shutting out the soft snores in favor of the all but silent ship. Max stands to the side, staring at him with another inquisitive gaze. Now away from _ all that _, it's easier to see the flush to Max’s neck and ears, and how dark his eyes have gotten. 

“Well-” Max starts.

“I don’t want to talk about it, man.” Johnny states, feeling wound tighter than well worn music box. 

“I was merely going to ask if you needed any help with that.” His voice had lowered to a rumble at his last few words, sending electricity down Johnny’s spine as he gestures vaguely as Johnny’s groin. Max’s expression is hungry again, and honestly a truck wouldn’t have hit Johnny as hard as that suggestion. 

His erection had flagged in the interim, but with the open, clear invitation, he wasn’t certain it’d ever go down again. 

“No,” Johnny lied, not mentally prepared for anyone’s hand on him other than his own. The vicar can offer again some other time if he’s keen on it. Max smirks again as Johnny resolutely turns to leave. 

“Have a good evening, Captain.” He calls to Johnny who tries not to sprint to his quarters the moment he hears Max’s bunker door close with a pneumatic hiss, taking the steps down three at a time.

What a fucking night.

* * *

The next morning, Felix is sitting at the dining table, frozen dinner to his temple, and looking like his head was going to explode. Johnny couldn’t imagine what side effects there would be after consuming _ undiluted alien mating hormones _ but hopefully the headache is it. The tension in the room is stifling as Johnny walks slowly by, avoiding all eye contact and barely even registering what cans his hands are grabbing in a bid to get breakfast and get out.

“Ugh, never again.” Felix groans as Johnny pops open a can of whatever the fuck he found with an unintentional snort. There’s silence for a moment as he grabs a fork and Felix mulls in his migraine before, “Hey, boss-” Felix stops, squirming under Johnny’s full attention.

Beneath a well-trained calm facade brought on by years of customer service work, Johnny’s heart is _ racing _ . He expects, no, _ knows _ a resignation and a soft demand to be let off at the Groundbreaker and never spoken to again is boiling it’s way out of Felix. Fuck, he would be putting one in if his boss just fucking pulled what Johnny did last night. 

He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to have Felix walk out of his life and his ship. So, he does what anyone would do in this situation: brace for impact, take a bite of his cold gelatinous food, and wonder why the hell he’s eating saltuna for breakfast.

Felix finally settles, staring somewhere over Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Johnny almost spits out the almost fish. “and… sorry for last night.” He swallows it down forcibly, trying to remain as placid as he can.

“‘S fine.” He mumbled after another hurried bite, rolling with the punches and battling the urge to tell Felix he’d be more than happy to play with his ass anytime, “Just don’t go licking anymore weird shit, man.” Felix nods sheepishly, tapping a finger on the table before catching Johnny’s gaze with his own for the first time that morning.

“You’re not gunna fire me, right boss?” 

Flabbergasted, Johnny pauses, rolling the overly salted, mostly unpleasant fish in his mouth, and taking in Felix’s puppy dog expression, the way his fist is clenched on the edge of the table, the bruises on his neck where Johnny let his better judgement take a back seat…

“Nah,” he says, walking round the table so he can ruffle Felix’s disheveled hair as he saunters back to his quarters. Felix flinches and bats his hand away, albeit with a grin. “At least not for last night. But I am docking your pay if Gladys figures out there’s any of that raptidon shit missing.” 

Felix opens his mouth to complain, but shakes his head instead. “Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did Johnny ever put a fucking shirt on? The world may never know. 
> 
> Was this anything? Smut isn't my forte and I haven't written any in like 6 years but something about these characters just really got me in the smut writing mood. Let me know if it was passable and maybe I’ll write the other ideas for these three idiots I have banging around in my head. Thanks for reading!


End file.
